In the Bleak Mid-winter
by SUITOFSKIN
Summary: It's late December 2011, and Stan Pines is going through is regular seasonal depression, when who should arrive on his doorstep but his old friend/lover Rick Sanchez.
1. Chapter 1

Gravity falls winter of 2011-2012

Stan hated the winter, It was dark, cold and lonely, it was the dead season. In the spring, summer, and fall there was life, greenery and most importantly lots of business for the shack. Now there was nothing, desolation and darkness. Soos of course would try to make things better, but as the weather grew colder, Stan grew angrier and less careful with what he said. He always managed to lash out say or do something to push Soos away, he already knew the man's weak points and it was easy.

 _'It's easier if I do, I don't need him to see me like this, I don't need him around now, how would I pay him anyways?'_

He's spending most of this days in his chair, huddled under a quilt, space heater on watching Tv and sleeping in the chair. He wondered often if He'd die like that, and Soos would find him in the spring.. He wasn't going to off himself, if he wanted too there ten guns, but just dying quietly would be better. One cold and miserable night, he was huddled under his quilt making himself some brown meat hash on the stove. When there was a knock at the front door. Sighing, he slowly made his way there. _'Who The fuck is this?'_ He wondered hoping it wasn't Soos, also hoping that whoever it was would fuck off. Sooner then he could reach the door, it burst open. There was a rail thin figure holding a sack, and wearing a santa hat.

"HO-HO-HO WHO WANTS TOT GET WASSSTED?!"

"Sanchez? What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Hey- Stan, Stan remember we used to say that! I was ya know, around so I thought I'd visit!"

"I'm not gonna ask how you found this place," Stan sighed. "But after what happened in Mexico, you got some fuckin' nerve showing up like this."

Rick put down his red sack and glared at Stan."You still mad about that, Stan?"

"Yeah, you left me in jail!"

"I was going to come back, ya know, but things happened."

"Tell me why I shouldn't punch you!"

"I'd like to see you try."

"Naw, to cold to fight, close the door behind ya, Sanchez, yer letting in the cold."

"So I can stay?"

"For now. Close the door, yer letting in the cold."


	2. Chapter 2

They walked into the living room, rick was still hauling the sack around.

"It's cold as fuck in here, have you ever considered turning up the heat, Pines?" Rick said with a shiver.

"You want it warm? You pay the bills, Sanchez." Stan grumbled.

"Asshole," Rick said with a roll of his eyes.

"You got any science crap in that sack, to keep us warm?" Stan asked.

"Sorta," Rick said and rummaged in the sack pulling out a bottle.

"Whiskey?" Stan said. "I got that already, it doesn't do jack."

"Distilling is a science…. after a few shots we'll be warm enough." Rick said. "Where's the kitchen? I'm getting some glasses for this."

Rick said as he wandered out into the hallway.

"To the right," Stan shouted after him.

Stan decided to have a rummage in Rick's sack too, Rick usually had some good stuff, that outweighed the booby traps, Rick would put in.. Stan didn't need all his fingers anyhow… He found bottles of liquor in various states of fullness, records, drugs & pills in plastic baggies…. weird inventions and alien shit… also lots of clothes, a sleeping bag, a tooth brush, and other toiletries…. no cash what so ever not even the weird alien kind… an idea dawned on him. _'Rick doesn't have a place to stay. That's why he's here. If he thinks he can crash here without paying or nothin'…_ but where would he go? Did Rick have a family? Rick once said something about that right?

Stan couldn't be sure, he hadn't found any photos that showed Rick did…

"HEY DO YOU HAVE SHOT GLASSES, STAN?!" Rick yelled from the kitchen.

Stan closed the red sack and shoved it aside. "

"TOP SHELF NEAR THE FRIDGE!"

Rick walked back from the kitchen with the two shot glasses. "Are these the same tacky pieces of shit from Vegas you picked up on our trip?"

"Hey! They aren't tacky!" Stan protested.

"All you're taste is your mouth, Stan." Rick said as he walked back in.

"I spent all my winnings on them!"

"All four dollars of it," Rick sighed. "I was there remember."

" I'm surpassed you can, you were high as fuck." Stan said.

"Ether," Rick said with a nostalgic smile. "Hey we gonna sit around gabbing or get shit faced."

Stan shrugged. "You're call, Sanchez."

Rick poured them a round in the shot glasses and handed one to Stan. They raised the glasses.

"Don't pussy out," Rick warned.

"Heh, you wish." Stan said.

Then both of them downed the shot first shot. It wasn't as smooth or easy as Stan remembered. He sputtered coughed and grimaced as it the whiskey burned its way down his throat.

"Old man Pines can't handle his liquor anymore!" Rick jeered

"It's been a while," Stan said. "Gimme another."

"You man enough for it?" Rick teased.

Stan felt warmth and pleasantly buzzed.

"Yeah, it's not my fault you buy cheap booze." Stan replied

Rick poured another shot. "Drink up, Grandma."

"Gimme the booze, Asshole." Stan rolled his eyes.

They swallowed down three more. At some point Rick put on a David Bowie album. Sitting in a drunken stupor with Rick curled by his knees, he felt marvelous, this was what friendship was all about… I mean there was no way they'd ever be lovers again not after last time.

"Can you still get it up?" Rick asked looking up.

"Whadda ya mean?" Stan began. "I'm not that old…!"

"N-n-no moron, I meant are you to drunk to fuck or what?" Rick asked.

"Why do you want to know?" Stan asked.

"You were one the best humans I ever— ever did it with…" Rick said.

"HAHAHAHAHA…. really?" Stan said. "Well, then you want… you can get it.."

He looked at Rick, but Rick had passed out. Stan sighed and then closed his eyes and fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

He woke up the next day feeling like death, stiff and hungover. He sighed and stretched he heard cracking, the house was surprisingly warm and it smelled like breakfast. Good breakfast, well nothing like a good breakfast for a hangover. He stretched and got up. Rick was in the kitchen, cooking up what appeared to be a skillet of brown meat hash, home fries and brewing coffee.

Rick glared at him. "Morning, where are your eggs?"

"Eggs are to expensive, these days. Gimme some coffee." Stan said.

"A please would be nice, Pines." Rick scowled

"I feel like shit, and it's your fault, gimme coffee, your lucky I don't sock you in the jaw." Stan grumbled

"Like the fuck you could beat me in a fight."

"I used too, I bet I still could." Stan smirked

"With the shape your in? Besides I let you win." Rick said rolling his eyes.

"If that's your excuse." Stan snorted

"What was that game we used to play? Who's the bitch? Winner fucked the loser." Rick smiled nostalgically.

"Oy, that game? We came up with it hopped up on speed. and last time I won, and I coughed up blood for three days afterward," Stan groused.

"Y-you only remember the bad shit, Pines." Rick said. "You fucking loved that game."

Stan chuckled. "Yeah, I did. Gimme some food."

"Sure," Rick said. He poured out coffee for both of them and dished out the hash and home fries.

They sat and ate talking about old times and bullshit.

"Last time I saw you, it was '81 Sanchez, you were settled down with the woman of your dreams and had a baby," Stan said. "What happened?"

Rick's expression changed to grim. " Things happened. She didn't get my work, she's not in the picture, neither is my daughter. Besides you came by to crash on our couch, and left in the dead of night no good-byes."

"Well, I could see I wasn't wanted, you were happy and she didn't like me," Stan said. "After Mexico, I pretty much knew what kinda friend you were."

"Oh that bullshit!" Rick crabbed. "You gonna bear that grudge forever! After all the other times I saved your ass."

Stan sighed. "You don't get it Rick, it isn't a score card, it's about being there when you need a friend."

Rick shook his head. "Alright fine, I was a shit friend then. What you want me to leave? I'll leave.'

"Naw," Stan said. "Right now you need a friend, and a place to stay."

"Why the fuck do you think that? There is planet of hot sexy aliens out there where I'm worshiped as a god! I could go there and get a blow job while I'm being fed peeled fucking grapes," Rick said.

"Why don't you?" Stan said.

"Because, space shit. " Rick mumbled. "You wouldn't get it."

"Ah, right. So where you before you came here? " Stan asked.

"I was staying at a branch of the Portland YMCA," Rick said. "They kicked me out cuz my asshole roommate complained about my lab. I just need the winter to sort things out."

Stan sighed. "And you aren't bouncing around the universe and shit because?"

"More space shit. "Rick sighed. "….. Right basically I'm considered a wanted c-c-criminal out there and the fuckers made it illegal and dangerous for me to get shit. Also my fucking saucer broke down, Stanley! I can't repair it with earth shit. I'm fucked Stanley."

"So you came here." Stan said.

"Yep." Rick said.

"You wanna not talk and eat now?" Stan said.

"Hmm-mmm" Rick sighed

In that moment, Stan decided that charging Rick any rent would be a bad idea. Also asking for that twenty dollars back. I mean why kick Sanchez, when he was down? He'd let him stay here until at least March, rent free. That was fair, right?


End file.
